Mick’s stomach clenched even tighter. Being infatuated with someone inappropriate was one thing. Being obsessed with someone who the police were hunting down took foolhardy recklessness to a whole new level. “So . . .” He removed another corn chip from the red plastic basket on the table before him. He was acting casual, but his mind was leaping from one hair-raising explanation to another. It’s not something innocuous like a missing person, because she’s in hiding. What other reasons could there be? Bank robbery? Extortion? Murder? The very idea seemed ludicrous. However . . . Mick exhaled. Looked at the chip he was holding and realized there was no way he could manage to chew his way through another. “Why”—he gently laid the chip on his plate, wishing it were as easy to place his worries down—“are the police on the lookout for you?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Try me.” Mick could feel tension in his jaw.

Sarah heaved a sigh. “I didn’t do anything wrong, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Fine.” Mick crossed his arms and leaned back. “Then it should be easy to explain why you’re on the run. Why you changed your appearance. Why you left your only means of transportation in a grocery store parking lot.” Sarah dumped a dollop of sour cream on her cheese enchilada, stalling for time. He waited.

She poked her food with her fork, then placed the utensil down and met his gaze dead-on. “Kevin works in law enforcement.”

“Your husband is a police officer?”

She screwed up her face as if tasting something bitter and nodded. “A lieutenant. Look, I know I said ‘my husband,’ but he’s not. Not really.”

“You’re divorced?” He leaned down hard on the hope that had flared up. He needed to deal with the facts. Specifics.

“No.”

Damn. “Separated, then?” After all, divorces could take a while if things were acrimonious.

“Not legally, no. I tried to, but as I said before, things are complicated . . .” She trailed off.

Mick shook his head, trying to clear it. “I’m a little confused here. You say you were married, but you’re neither divorced nor separated. I don’t understand what that means. You told me your husband is a lieutenant, but that doesn’t explain why the police are looking for you. I can’t . . .” He felt like he was being asked to run full tilt through a maze blindfolded. “This isn’t . . .” Mick forced himself to pause. The woman was obviously traumatized and feeling vulnerable. He knew from a decade of dealing with emotional actors that getting frustrated with her would only exacerbate the situation. He took another sip of coffee to buy the necessary time needed to tamp down the disappointment. She was attempting to gaslight him once again. “Sarah. It’s best if we deal in facts, not shadowy half-truths.”